


blood magic.

by spireghost



Series: Dragon Age Solos [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blood Magic, Bounty Hunters, Hawtherford, Inquisition Timeline, Mages and Templars, Self Harm for Blood Magic, Solo works, Templars, for ya'll out there with a blood kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 15:53:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6201493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spireghost/pseuds/spireghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of solo works.</p><p>Marian Hawke has an addiction to blood magic, as Cullen does with lyrium.<br/>A bounty hunter with a band of warriors and templars come to take Hawke in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	blood magic.

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this up one night as writing practice. It's kinda chunky and rough but a start.
> 
> Thank you to thelastofducks on tumblr for being my editor!

It was about seven to one. Marian stood ready, staff in hand. Quickly enough she felt the itching in the back her mind. Former templars were clearly among this group, sporting their emblems proudly. The man who seemed to be the leader of the band stepped forward to speak; the other men sneered at her and smirked, assuming they would find her an easy capture. The tall, scruffy-looking man was armored in severely battered and unkempt captain's armor. She wondered who he killed to acquire such high-ranking attire.

He spoke to her loudly with a thick Ferelden accent.

"Listen, dearie. We've got strict orders to bring in a mage who just so happens to fit your description. Now, you have two options. You can either come quietly, or I can have my templars here make it very difficult for you."

His lips turned upwards in a smug grin as he apparently relished in the pain he hoped to inflict. Before she began, a smirk of her own spread across her face.

"And who is this? They couldn't come see me themselves? Awfully rude, if you ask me."

The man's expression faltered and his brows furrowed. Clearly she wouldn't make it easy for him. They never did. He sighed, resigned in the opportunity to fight yet another battle over a misguided, determined criminal,  “Have it your way then."

 

The man signaled forward, and the templars charged her as their blood-curdling battle cries echoed through the woodlands. Sunspots through the trees flashed upon the polished steel blades threatening her life. As soon as they approached her, she swung her staff around, projecting a sharp wall of ice to buy some time. Marian's clawed gauntlet easily found its way to her bare arm, the sleeve having been torn away. The talons scraped the delicate skin to create a beautiful row of gashes. A shiver flew down her spine as the warm, crimson blood drained down her forearm. More scars for her gallery.

The templars desperately hacked at the ice while other warriors began to make their way around it. With a sharp inhale, Marian steadied herself as a rush of adrenaline surged through her body. She quickly evaded the Templars’ attacks and maneuvered them into a small herd while she prepared for a counter-attack in her escape.

The leader followed from a cautionary distance, spectating as his men pursued the fleeing mage. Hawke glanced over her shoulder to survey her opponents, sprinted farther ahead still, then skid to an abrupt halt. She whirled around, expelling a surge of magic in a radius surrounding all of her pursuers. For a moment they were struck with panic, frozen with fear as they stood in the glowing red circle around them; seconds later, their ear-piercing shrieks rattled the leaves on the surrounding trees. Many shriveled to the ground, writhing in pain. The blood boiled beneath their skin, obliterating vessels and exploding arteries from within. Deep purple bruises formed quickly and numerously as they began to bleed out from the inside. The more resilient of the crew stood for a meager few seconds longer than the others, yet even they could only withstand the toxic effects of the blood magic for so long. As her magic grew weaker, the remaining men desperately gasped for air before collapsing to the forest floor.

Marian observed, delighted as she basked in the following final moments of her opponents’ suffering. She shuddered. A pounding pain in her head. The mage told herself to make it quick, even if they deserved worse. Their bodies twitched, still alive and feeling the agony of her magic. Taking the blade of her staff, she ran the unarmored men through and sliced the jugular of the armored. Swift and not so clean. In all of this excitement she had forgotten the leader of the group, who had silently made it behind her to make his attack. Before she could react to hearing his movement, he had an arm around her neck and the other having a firm grip on her staff.

Hawke began to curse and thrash and he cut her off with his arm tightening around her neck. "Now, that's not polite, _mage_ ,” He spat the word in disgust. “Didn't they teach you manners in the Circle!?" A knee swiftly struck her back, knocking the wind out of her with a pained gasp. The mage's body went limp in his tight hold and he kept her up by the arm around neck. She choked and desperately regained her footing.

“You killed my men.. The bounty didn’t say alive.” The words rolled off his tongue sickeningly.

 

The tables had swiftly turned and Hawke desperately grabbed at his arm around her neck, smearing her blood all over his hands. A rather disgusted sound came from behind her, and she was just as disgusted to be in his grasp.

"I thought I told you to come quietly? Huh?!" He sounded furious now and the arm tightened more. Marian slammed her head backward into his face and the arms around her let go reluctantly. The man fell to the ground and his hands rushed to his now-bleeding face after he had caught himself.

 

"Touch me again." Hawke dared him in a snarl. She took a few steps away to admire her work. "You've heard of the phrase, 'silent as the grave,' haven't you? I'd be more than _happy_ to have you experience it as your men have."

The leader looked behind her at the pile of dead men on the ground. Their skin was a pallet. Mixes of purple and red, with blood oozing out of any orifice it could. He had seen how they suffered and knew she would only make it worse on him. For a moment she thought he would challenge her again. However, he looked from her to the bodies a couple of times. It was almost as if he didn’t believe she had done it. The man finally looked to her with a newfound look of terror and began scrambling backwards. She let him go. He got up and ran.

 

Now he thought he had made it out alive. Got away safely from the deranged blood mage. Hawke let him think that anyway.

Marian followed silently in the shadows. When she saw he had let down his guard, a spike of ice was sent flying through the space between them. It pierced his back and protruded through his chest, the steam flowed off the ice from the warmth of his body. The man's breath caught one last time as he looked down to see the white spike blooming from his chest.

The last thing he felt was cold.

 

* * *

 

Marian slumped against a tree. It was finally over. A wave of exhaustion came over her and she sunk to the ground. The gashes in her arm hadn’t quite crusted over just yet. She wondered how much blood she'd lost-- this time. Her glove was soaked in red and she felt sick to her stomach from fatigue. The dried blood on her fingers flaked off as she fumbled with the ties on her gauntlet, struggling to take it off. Maker, all she wanted to do was heal her arm. As soon as she was able to throw it off, her hand was on the wounds. They still felt wet and sticky. Her palm pressed on them firmly, cutting off the remaining flow. The magic took a toll on her, more than usual. Once it was healed, her palm was brought to her face, smearing the red from cheek to cheek. 

Nobody would be happy if they found her like this. Cullen would be the most disappointed. But if she hand't-- would she be alive? Would anyone had known to save her-- if she'd been caught.

What if-- What if-- What _if_ ?

 _In the end, the reason justifies the means_.

 

Right?

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy it? Leave a kudos!  
> Thanks for reading! ;v;


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